Familiarity
by lavira.rose
Summary: 'Tom freezes as he's folding his shirt, eyes narrowed. "They'll wrinkle," he mutters as if this is the most ridiculous request Marco has made.' In which Marco tries to be bold and Tom tries to let go. Mature themes.


Hi I'm here to give you humans getting off on demon/xeno stuff and demons being fucking dorks

You can find more mar-stars on tumblr

Thanks to Isak, Kat, and Jakey for betaing.

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This was a really bad idea. Rash, undeveloped, and ridiculous: through and through, this was just a _bad idea_. No thought, no editing, nothing reasonable went into his little "plan" - if it can even be called that with how instinctual and childish it is - and now Marco's paying for it.

He's generally a pretty logical guy not to mention he's someone who doesn't take huge risks, at least when it comes to love and relationships. He may go on adventures and be eager to take chances in other areas of life but he can't when it comes to other people. His nerves get the best of him no matter how comfortable their interactions are and he can't make a single move without a strategy of some sort to back him up.

He's grown up a lot over the years but some habits die hard and his penchant for planning every single interaction with his love interests has proven to be one that's stuck with him. He can't just talk to cute girls, can't hit on handsome coworkers, and he certainly can't ask them out. It should go without saying he can't simply slide into someone's bed and wait for them there. That would be idiotic and nerve-wracking. It would make Marco absolutely sick with anxiety. He'd probably not be able to follow through.

And yet it's exactly what he's doing now.

Up until this point, his need for a strategy has been unshakeable. He once even wrote out a plot to ask a girl from his stats class out that went on for five pages. Going in blind makes him so anxious he practically panics. Still, here he is: so eager to be with Tom again he's sacrificed his pride, ignored his nerves, and simply thrown logic out the window in favor of taking a chance. He just can't help himself this time.

It was all too easy to get into Tom's room - even to chat with the skull on the wall even as he carefully removed it from its place. "Hey," it had said fondly, "You know, you're really good for him. I'm glad you two are together. The whole kingdom is - honest! Tom's become more and more cutthroat since you two started fucking. It's," he actually _sniffled_ , "It's really romantic."

"Uh," Marco said, eyes wide, "Thanks?"

"You're welcome," he had warbled and Marco very eagerly stepped out into the hall, handed the skull to a nearby guard, and watched them go on their way. Marco's not really sure where the skull goes on these occasions, he's just happy to get it out of the room after the first time he and Tom became intimate and the skull cried out in alarm just as Tom got Marco's pants down.

Awkward? Most definitely. So awkward it sort of hurts, Marco's chest growing so tight he can't breathe. Still, it's oddly easy and it's even easier to slip out of his clothes and climb into Tom's bed, sliding his hands over the soft sheets, fascinated as always by the little luxuries incongruous with the harshness of the underworld. He supposes it's easy because it's familiar: everything from Tom's scent clinging to the pillows to the slight chill of the room. Considering that in the past few months Marco has spent more nights in Tom's bed than his own, it's not surprising that it's starting to feel like another home.

Half the time they don't do anything romantic let alone sexual but it's still _intimate_. They're friends, first and foremost, which makes the relationship all the more bizarre yet steady. Marco has never been so comfortable and he has never been so bold. Much to his embarrassment, this whole thing started out all too innocently, with the two falling asleep in Tom's bed during a marathon of Marco's favorite karate movies. Next time, sleeping together wasn't an accident, instead Tom invited him into bed, lifting the sheets and looking so hopeful and sincere in his ridiculous pajama pants covered in skulls and his too-big shirt that stressed the delicate lines of his shoulders and throat that Marco couldn't say no.

They don't really cuddle, not all the time and not then, but they share warmth and breathe in each other's breath. When Marco kicks off the blankets, Tom, a light sleeper, wakes right up and tucks him back in; Marco knows because he sometimes gets too hot in an actual demon's bed and kicks them off on purpose. He can't stand to kick them away again after Tom so tenderly takes care of him and kisses his shoulder before going back to sleep. It's _intimate_. That's the only word for it.

Tom, who is oddly endearing when he becomes flustered and so eager to please, is hard to feel self-conscious around; Marco probably couldn't do this if he was. The more time they spend together the more Marco feels comfortable with him and the more he feels safe enough to do wild things like this.

Despite how safe he usually feels, tonight is not going to be like the usual sleepovers and that alone has Marco so anxious he's contemplating leaving. He's never done anything like this before and, even though it's as if his familiarity with Tom has eased some of his anxiety, he's so worried he's nauseous. His blush creeps down his throat as he fights to hold still, hands clenched and damp.

Taking deep breaths helps quiet his mind yet he finds himself, instead of relaxing, only focusing further on Tom. He swallows thickly, counting every sharp stalactite hanging from the ceiling to calm himself instead. Marco, blinded with his eagerness, may be about to irritate Tom more than anything else. He knows Tom wants to be in control and anything sudden can be upsetting to him, yet he still came here tonight. He feels like an inconsiderate ass.

Groaning, Marco sits up in bed, glancing around the empty room as if expecting Tom to suddenly appear but of course he doesn't. He's just being paranoid. He bites his lip and draws the sheets up to cover himself, blushing when they brush his length. Sucking in a sharp breath, eyes squeezed shut, he tries to will away his erection.

This was a terrible idea. The worst.

He's been here maybe fifteen minutes and yet he's already worked himself up. He wants to disappear he's so embarrassed. Suddenly all of this seems immature and ridiculous. Marco feels like an idiot for thinking Tom would come back and just ravish him or something.

Marco, torn between desire and logic, has made the wrong choice and he knows it. Punching the mattress, he groans, "Stupid, stupid, stupid…"

He sits up, awkwardly covering himself still, and leans towards the bedside table to get the scissors he left there. In hindsight, he can't believe he ever thought this could go well. He's just lucky none of Tom's servants walked in, really. Maybe all of this familiarity with Tom is having a negative effect if it makes him this stupidly bold. Feeling sick with himself, he just wants to go home and stress-eat.

As he stands, he awkwardly tries to wrap Tom's sheets around his waist but he can hardly manage to hold them in place with one hand, the other occupied with the scissors. He tiptoes over to the pingpong table where his clothes are folded neatly, eyes darting to the door every few moments. This is just pathetic, he decides, and he sort of feels like crying, sort of feels like laughing - it's just one of those days. Setting the scissors by the neat pile, he glances back to the door one last time, reluctant to look away lest Tom come in right as he does, before turning to the clothes.

He placed them here the way he always does, neat and tidy to satisfy Tom, and something about the sight gives him pause. They share secrets, share a bed, and share the parts of themselves they are most ashamed of. This isn't unreasonable of him. He's spent countless nights in Tom's home, his clothes left right here before he's drawn back to bed, breathing his air, touching his bare skin, confiding in each other. He should be allowed to do this. This should be okay.

Tom, his friend and lover, should be okay with this. _This_ is what lovers do.

Feeling as if he's in a dream, Marco steps back and looks to Tom's door. He should be here soon as he's pretty uncompromising about his schedule and this is around the time when he retires for the night. Marco lets the sheets fall and he takes his underwear from the bottom of the pile. Stubbornly ignoring his erection which just can't seem to fade, Marco steps back into his briefs and slips them over his length, drawing in a sharp breath. Sharp breaths through his nose and an irritated whine through his teeth, he wills his erection to fade; it's unbearably embarrassing to be this hard from nothing and if Tom found him like this he'd be mortified. Back to brimming with anticipation, Marco gathers up the sheets and slips into bed again, curling up on Tom's side and pressing his face into the pillows.

This is familiar. It feels right. This really isn't that different from all the other nights they have spent together, pressed close and simply enjoying each other's presence. Taking deep breaths of Tom's scent, Marco finds himself relaxing, the tension in his back draining away. Tom will be okay with this, he's sure.

Shifting onto his back, Marco closes his eyes and listens, waiting to hear Tom's heels clicking as he approaches. He dozes, kicking the sheets back slightly then pushing them down his waist, shy but still wanting Tom to see him like this. It feels stupid but he wants to look sexy or tempting or something. He's not even sure what, just that he wants Tom to want _him_.

Marco sighs softly, fingers finding the scabs of a bite on his collarbone. He's growing warm with lust, his cock stirring once more. His blush darkens and he looks to the door, heart skipping a beat when he does manage to hear the click of Tom's heels, as sharp and precise as the man himself, even over the roar of his blood.

He fights the sudden urge to sit up and bolt but, luckily, he supposes, his fear instead pins him to the spot. Chest tight and heart racing, Marco watches the door-handle turn, hand finally shooting out to bunch the sheets over his cock which is still hard despite his nerves. His stomach seems to be nothing more than a knot, heavy and sickening, and the persistence of his erection only adds to his terrible embarrassment.

This was a terrible idea.

Tom slips through the doorway almost as if he's sneaking, all three eyes wide and his nostrils flared. Marco's stomach sinks; he can tell when Tom's nerves are frayed and it's not hard to see the signs now. His eyes go straight to Marco and they only widen further until his expression draws forth a high, strained laugh from Marco's lips but he quickly quiets himself.

The tension in the air could be cut with a knife and Marco can hardly breathe, feeling sick with himself all over again. Tom slams the door closed, the noise seeming to jolt Marco's heart, and fumbles to lock it without looking, eyes never straying from Marco's.

Marco wants to speak but he can't even manage the weakest of apologies, throat so tight he feels he'd choke on the words. He feels terrible - _guilty_ , even - and all he wants is to laugh it off, claiming this is just a joke and _hey, we should watch that demonic reality show you're always talking about_. Still, the words don't come.

Tom simply stares at him for a painfully long moment before he takes a deep breath, words tumbling from his lips, voice strained, "You smell so good. The servants had to leave this wing because-because they- Marco, you just smell so good."

Marco squeaks, jerking the sheets up to his chin, "I what?"

"You smell good," Tom chokes out, face so bright Marco's surprised he's not radiating heat, "I could smell you down the hall… you're so- Have you been touching yourself?"

Marco sits up, spluttering, "No! Oh my god, why-why would you think that?"

Tom's blush grows impossibly darker and he takes a few halting steps closer. Hands clenched by his sides, he looks like he's about to come out of his skin and his voice is tense and raspy, "I-I don't- You just- You smell like _sex_. Like… you're turned on…" he whispers, swallowing.

Marco's hands automatically move to cover his erection, eyes flicking away. He bites his lip so hard it _aches_ , holding back his embarrassed babbling. This was such a bad idea. Marco wants to run away and never speak of this again.

"Marco?" Tom says weakly, hesitant now, "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make that- I- I don't mean that in a bad way!"

"I know!" Marco grumbles, hesitantly meeting Tom's eyes, "I'm- Crap, is this uncomfortable? For you? I just-"

Tom's eyes go wide again and Marco's words die on his tongue as he stalks closer, gaze turning predatory. Mouth dry, Marco licks his lips, "Tom? Tom, is it… uh…"

Heart in his throat, he watches Tom approach, unwilling to look away. He feels like _prey_.

There's a thrill to sex with Tom that he's come to love, as dangerous and foolish as it may be, the adrenaline making his hands shake. His heartbeat is a wild staccato, blood thrumming in his ears, giving away his excitement. He wants to hide his eagerness but there's no point: Tom can smell it on him just like he can smell everything else, can hear his wild pulse.

Claws, fangs, and fire: Tom isn't a creature to reckon with yet Marco is never truly afraid of him and never has been. Even now, with Tom looming over him, sharp eyes more animal than human, Marco isn't afraid. There's embarrassment and a barely lingering pride, however, that keep him from spreading his legs and inviting Tom into bed outright, hands tugging at his underwear as if he can somehow hide how his cock is leaking precum as if he's already been touched, a damp spot forming at the head. He's practically mortified with himself as simply sneaking into Tom's bed has left him like this. Still, he doesn't let himself flee.

Marco licks his lips, squirming. He feels like prey, he really does, spread out across Tom's bed so bare and vulnerable. There are bruises and bites littered across his skin, little memories from past encounters, some only barely faded; he's eager to have more but he can't bring himself to admit it. The possession, the submission - everything about their lovemaking drives him mad and, despite his embarrassment, he will never feel shame. It's shyness that keeps him from being outright, shyness he attempts to overcome now by presenting himself to Tom.

Still, he wriggles in bed, face flushed, and can't bring himself to meet Tom's eyes. "Uh-" Marco's voice cracks and he winces, squeezing his eyes shut, "This-this was a bad idea-"

"No!" Tom says harshly, voice raspy and dark, and lurches forward as if to climb into bed. He quickly eases the sharp lines of his face and pauses, looking sheepish, "No- I- I just... didn't expect you to come back... this soon..."

Marco groans, rolling onto his side and hiding his face in the sheets, "This was a mistake..."

Tom is silent, lingering at the foot of his own bed, eyes flicking between Marco and the door as if wishing he could simply leave. Marco wants to disappear, humiliation tightening like a noose around his neck. Heart still beating too fast and loud, it's all too easy to block Tom out. Marco, like the fool he is, doesn't want to face this at all. He simply wants to make it go away. He should leave now, while he has the chance, but instead he feels frozen - too small and embarrassed to move.

His chest grows tight when the bed shifts under Tom's weight as he kneels next to Marco. He can hear Tom's throat click as he swallows, "I'm… I'm really happy you came. And, uh, it makes me happy you did this," he pauses, uncertain, "for me…"

Marco's face burns and he rolls onto his stomach, fighting to hide his blush. Tom makes a distressed, confused noise, hovering over him still; Marco can't help but feel pleased by his apparent care.

"Can we… uh, do you not want to have sex?" Tom finally sputters.

Marco peeks at him furtively, biting his lips when he sees how Tom's eyes are locked on the marks decorating his skin, his own flushed at the sight. Chest so full of affection and pleasure it aches, Marco shifts so he's on his back again, hands awkwardly clutched to his chest as if he can keep it from bursting open and allowing all of his secret desires to spring forth. His breath hitches when Tom takes a heavy breath of his own, face drawn, and he reaches out, hand feeling so very heavy he almost draws back. Tom takes it before he can, however, and guides it to his lips so he can press fevered kisses to his knuckles.

Marco makes an embarrassingly high-pitched noise, covering his mouth with one hand, helpless but to watch as Tom kisses his fingertips before lapping at them softly. His tongue is soft and warm, touching the pads of his fingers so delicately he leaves no dampness in its wake. "Oh-oh god," Marco whimpers, thighs pressed together tightly, "You- Shi-shit-"

Tom's eyes meet his own, hazy with lust but burning - burning as they always do. Marco feels pinned under his gaze, trembling with his want, and before he knows what he's doing he's reaching out with his free hand to tug at Tom's jacket. With a pained noise, as if it kills him to part from Marco for even a moment, Tom shifts back, releasing Marco's hand so he can get out of his clothes, for once letting his shoes fall to the floor haphazardly.

"I-I'm not good at… _spontaneity_ ," Tom explains, voice almost shaking. Something about it is so endearing Marco could melt. "That's why I paused," he adds, "Well… froze…"

Marco bites his lip, tugging at the sheets in hopes of covering up, "Yeah… Okay…"

All of the boldness that brought him to Tom's room and inspired him to strip and wait for his lover is gone now, abandoning him when he needs it the most. In all honesty, the two of them are so awkward he's not sure how they ever fell into bed together, ever actually made love, let alone ever admitted to their true desires.

"You look cute," Tom says stiffly as he struggles to get out of his button-up, his face dark and jaw clenched.

"Thanks," Marco croaks, instinctively covering his now half-hard length. It only draws Tom's attention to it and they both blush darker as his eyes linger. "Um," Marco says loudly, "will you- keep your pants on."

Tom freezes as he's folding his shirt, eyes narrowed. "They'll _wrinkle_ ," he mutters as if this is the most ridiculous request Marco has made - Marco who once asked, in the heat of the moment, for Tom to let his fangs drag over his cock.

Marco swallows thickly, "I'll iron them?"

Tom looks stricken and then strangely pleased by this, an odd quirk coming to his lips, "Oh… alright."

Marco feels like an idiot and he's not even sure why; it's actually distressing but Tom is crawling over him before he can consider the feeling further.

His pupils are blown and his lips are parted around shallow breaths. He's beautiful. Marco can't help but reach out to him, legs finally opening, and he draws Tom in, their bodies fitting together perfectly. The demon's skin is practically burning, lighting him up inside, and it feels perfect against Marco's own, feverish but familiar. Tom is familiar: his scent, his touch, his gaze. Marco feels safe.

Tom is very careful in the beginning, as always, and he positions himself as not to restrict Marco's breathing but still touch. Pleasure builds in his belly and he has to cling to Tom's back to stay grounded, fingers finding the base of his neck and his shoulder. Tom is thorough: nuzzling against Marco's jaw and pressing kisses to his throat, exploring every inch of Marco's skin as if it's all new, as if it's their first time all over again.

Feeling treasured and relaxed, Marco can't help but giggle. All of his fear seems ridiculous now. Nipping the lobe of Tom's ear to hear him suck in a breath, satisfaction only adding to his rush.

Their chests brush and Marco sucks in a breath, head tilting back. Toes curling, he pulls Tom closer still and presses messy kisses to his jaw, "Bite me?"

A rumble building in his throat, Tom eagerly noses against Marco's pulse, taking deep breaths of his scent. The intimacy of the action has heat blossoming between his thighs, his heart skipping a beat. Marco combs his fingers through Tom's hair, thighs pressing to the taller man's hips, and the kisses begin, soft and cautious but searing. Each little brush of lips has Marco's breath hitching and his eyes fluttering; he feels so treasured and loved that his heart aches. Tom is careful with his teeth, sweeping his tongue over his lips before taking the delicate skin between them, nibbling lightly.

A soft nip draws forth a heady cry from Marco, back arching as he writhes. Tom slides his arm under Marco's waist, pulling him in with ease. Tom is burning up, his skin so hot against Marco's own he feels he's burning with him; he wonders if Tom enjoys his chill as much as he enjoys Tom's warmth - _basks_ in it. He wonders if Tom loves his blunt teeth and nails, his soft skin, and his smaller form the way Marco adores his sharp ones, the inhuman firmness of his skin, and how lithe and tall he is.

Marco whines as their hips slot together, pressing mindlessly closer, seeking more friction, more heat, more pleasure. With an appreciative moan, Tom's forehead meets his own, squeezing gently with his arm as he guides Marco to continue the movement and they fall into an easy rhythm, moving together as if they were meant to be.

For a moment, they rock, gentle and easy as they breathe each other in. Heat licks up Marco's spine and his legs curl around Tom's waist, desperate to keep him close. He can feel Tom's strength in every movement, no matter how careful, and it thrills him. Feeling small and treasured like this is addicting. Marco just wants to stay like this, surrounded by Tom's body, his warmth, and his scent. He wishes he weren't so damn worked up so it could last longer but he's already keening as he fights to hold back, to keep going.

"Feels so good," Tom murmurs, lips trailing over Marco's cheek, and he whines. "This is what you wanted, isn't it?" he asks lowly, lips trailing over Marco's jaw and throat until Marco shivers, ankles locked to draw him in further, "You… you like this, right?" He sounds almost hesitant and even that sends shivers down Marco's spine.

"Yes," he gasps, pressing messy kisses to Tom's temple, "Yes, it's what I want."

Tom takes a measured breath, body stilling before he grinds against Marco, suddenly harsh and frantic. Marco's head tips back, baring himself fully, and Tom's teeth finally sink into his skin. The pain is bright and lovely, enough so to make Marco's lips part around a soundless cry. Growling against his skin, pulls Marco closer and closer, desperate to feel him, until the boy is flush against him. His claws prick his skin as Tom curls his fingers around Marco's ribs and he mewls. It's intoxicatingly hot, every touch driving Marco closer and closer to the edge. Dizzy and breathless, he ruts against Tom so their cocks meet, loving the added friction their clothing brings.

Harsh, ragged noises escape Marco's lips; he simply can't hold them in. He feels so small in these moments, as if nothing matters but Tom's body against his own, and it's addicting. He lives for it, now, when he can be nothing more than a possession, marked and claimed. It's a _relief_ , as if he doesn't have to worry about anything when Tom is taking care of him.

He's Tom's yet at the same time he always feels like so much more: cherished and cared for, he feels like the center of Tom's world. It's indescribable.

Lapping at the little hurt, Tom hums, content and soft, touch turning gentle. It fills Marco with warmth, his body going limp, hand releasing Tom's hair and the other light on his shoulder. He can hardly breathe like this: body jolting with little shocks of pleasure every time Tom moves against him, tongue dragging across his skin, and even that draws Marco dangerously close to coming. Tom is in full control now and he's gentle but sure; Marco feels safe.

Kissing his ear and teasing his tongue over the shell, Tom whispers, "I'm glad you returned… Missed you," he adds, so soft Marco almost doesn't hear him.

Chest tight and warm with pleasure, Marco brushes his knuckles against Tom's jaw, guiding him into a kiss. Soft and lazy, tongues curling almost hesitantly, Marco can't help but shiver, whimpering only for Tom to swallow up the noises. Being this close feels amazing, his mind light and fuzzy, pleasure consuming him. His cock is so hard it aches, throbbing as they continue to rut and grind. He's so close to coming he feels almost guilty and pulls away, gazing up at Tom shyly.

"So pretty," Tom says as the kiss breaks, "You're… you're trembling…"

Marco bites his lip, scrubbing at his face with his fist as if he can hide his embarrassment, "I-I'm-"

"It's okay," Tom sooths, kissing his cheek, "You can come… I-I love it when you come quickly. It's- I know I'm doing it right," he explains embarrassedly, circling his hips against Marco's, the hard lines of their cocks sliding together perfectly.

Marco sobs brokenly, writhing and clawing at Tom's back, "You're being so gentle-"

His thrusts begin to peter out, "I- Do you not like it?"

"No! No, no, no!" Marco squeaks, trying desperately to draw Tom closer, "I want it- please, I want it!"

Tom makes a high, strained sound, and he presses his face against Marco's throat again, "Marco… Fuck, you're so perfect…"

Marco keens, squeezing his eyes shut. Speaking is rare between them, at least when they're in bed together, making sweet words rare, let alone praise. The tenderness is almost too much, his body responding to the praise so acutely that he feels lightheaded. He's wanted this, wanted it desperately, and he's glad he gave into his desires and came despite his reservations.

That desperation to be with Tom is consuming him it's so strong. To be treasured and adored so honestly is what he returned for, wanted so much that he was stupidly brave and stripped before waiting for Tom to arrive. Tom's body fits against his own perfectly - their chests, their hips, and their lips. They were meant to be.

Marco misses his smiles and the confused furrow of his brow and the wry frowns even after a few weeks apart. He wants to hear Tom's laughs, honest and high, cute and strange. He wants to kiss and hold hands and listen to Tom's babbling about this and that for hours.

What started as heated, emotionless encounters, is quickly turning into open affection and need. He's a lovesick fool and with every brush of their lips he finds himself falling further and further in love.

"I-I'm so glad you came back," Tom murmurs, rolling his hips slowly, and he drags his fangs over Marco's pulse.

With a little jerk, Marco's body goes rigid, a high, tight whine escaping his clenched teeth, "About-"

"Mm, come. It's okay," he murmurs, suddenly pulling back. Marco whines and squirms, seeking out that friction again, but then Tom is tugging off his underwear, freeing Marco's cock. Marco whines, hand fisting in the sheets and the other covering his mouth in a desperate attempt to muffle his groan. "Don't want to make… too much of a mess," Tom says nervously and despite how mad with pleasure and frustration he is, Marco laughs, breathless and truly _happy_.

Tom preens as if Marco's beautiful laughter is the greatest commendation his words have ever received. Something seems to click for Marco in that moment, the tightness in his chest only growing. "You're helpless," he giggles, voice wondrous as his hands drift to Tom's bare chest, exploratory and teasing.

Tom's eyes are wide and his face is dark with his blush. As explanation, hesitant and almost embarrassed, he reminds, "I… I'm not good at spontaneity-"

"Sorry, I didn't mean that to come out so mean," Marco strokes his skin, tracing a high cheekbone, "It's okay, you know. I like how you are always trying to-to make it good."

Tom looks stricken, lips parted and breath rushing through his nose, "I… I'll accept nothing less than the best. You deserve the best. We both do." His eyes flit away, the third included, and he swallows thickly. Marco wants to kiss him and tell him it's okay, that he shouldn't be shy, but another part of him is almost happy to see Tom as uncomfortable as himself so he says nothing, simply watching as Tom seems to struggle to find his voice. "May I continue?" he asks weakly, a little lost.

Marco giggles brokenly, kissing Tom's cheek. "Oh god, please," he gasps, arching into his touch and grinning, breathy giggles still spilling from his lips.

Immediately, Tom leans back, easing Marco's briefs down his hips. Tom hums appreciatively, claws teasing over his thighs, gentle. Skin prickling with goosebumps, Marco shudders, head falling back. His cock shifts on his stomach, leaking pre as it does. Tom coos, bowing over Marco's prone form to gaze at the wetness pooling on his abdomen.

All the attention makes Marco flush and squirm, "S-sorry. I got, uh, a little too excited…"

Tom's eyes never stray from that one spot, his hands sliding up Marco's thighs to his hips, gripping them firmly. Marco shivers and bites his knuckle, whining, "I'm-I'm really close. Embarrassingly close. Next time-"

"Next time, I'll come to you," Tom says softly, kissing every inch of skin he can find, breath hot and tongue teasing. His hunger is practically tangible, a tension building in the air that makes Marco's heart race. Panting and wriggling to get closer, Marco's eyes meet his own. The fire in them makes Marco whimper, cock only growing wetter, and Tom's focus shifts to his length once more; he smiles, "Next time, I'll draw this out but… for now I just want you to be satisfied."

Marco squeezes his eyes shut, unable to watch as Tom lays between his thighs, nuzzling against his skin. "You-you're so- oh- shit!"

Lapping at the wet head of Marco's cock, Tom keeps his eyes trained on Marco's face, taking in his wide eyes and flushed cheeks. Marco can't hold in his cries and whines, all of these high, fucked noises escaping him with each curl of Tom's tongue. He wants to look away, to hide his desperation, but Tom looks gorgeous, his lavender skin dark with his blush, his his eyes so wide and searching. It's the most erotic thing Marco has ever seen.

His tongue is perfect, teasing with kitten licks and slipping over his slit to taste Marco's precum, and his lips are even better, soft and gentle as they press wet, open-mouthed kisses to his length. It's driving Marco insane, his mind foggy with lust, his heart hammering.

"Tom," Marco grits out, hands fisting in Tom's hair, knuckles bumping his horns, "I'm-I'm going to come…"

Tom's lips quirk into a smile, his eyes lighting up, and he finally closes them around the head of Marco's cock, taking him in little by little. Marco cries out, hips jolting against Tom's hold, and he can't hold back any longer. He comes hard, body drawn as tight as a bow, and he _shakes_. He can't stop, toes curling and hips jerking.

Tom purrs around his cock and Marco sobs, babbling, "Oh, fuck- Tom! So good- Tom-"

Marco practically melts. Tom eases his hold on his hips, lips sliding obscenely over the head of his cock as he pulls away. He carefully takes Marco's cock in hand as it falls from his lips, thumbing the shaft and licking around the head once more to ensure he caught up all of Marco's cum.

Marco watches, stricken by how beautiful Tom is even as he comes down from his high. He strokes Tom's hair, "You're sweet…"

Tom's eyes flicker to Marco's, his blush deepening, and he finally draws away. "It was good?"

Marco nods emphatically, "You're getting really good at that… Maybe too good," he adds embarrassedly but Tom's shy smile is worth it.

"Really?"

"Really… Now get up here," he mumbles, sleepy right after coming but determined to satisfy Tom in return, "I'll take care of you, too."

Tom eagerly crawls over him, kissing up Marco's stomach and petting his throat as their lips meet. Marco sighs softly as their tongues curl, the taste of his own cum on Tom's lips so erotic he can hardly stand it. He tugs on Tom's pants, trying to get him to move even closer, "Let me suck you off."

Tom whines against his lips, nipping sharply, "You're so tempting."

"Then let me."

Smiling, he kisses Marco, "Later… You're about ready to fall asleep."

Marco tries to object, clutching Tom's shoulder stubbornly, but Tom only laughs and curls up against his side. Marco huffs, batting at a horn, "I want to."

"I know," he soothes, pulling the covers over them as he gently mouths at Marco's shoulder.

It's hard to say no when he's being dragged down by sleep, his body lax and mind moving slow. The bed smells of Tom, and he's right there, warm and safe, arms open to him. Marco kisses his brow, frustrated but so, so in love. Ridiculously, unabashedly in love.

Marco slings his arm around Tom's shoulders and hugs him close. "I want to," he repeats stubbornly, knowing he sounds like a child.

"And I want you to, believe me," Tom laughs and gently grinds against Marco's hips, making the boy gasp when he feels Tom's hard length, "but it's been a long day and we're both tired." Marco presses his nose to Tom's hair and breathes deep, trying to stay awake as he feels Tom palming himself. "Maybe I can wake up to my cute boyfriend in nothing but lovebites as he does my laundry?" Tom asks hopefully.

Marco laughs, giddy with love even as he's dozing, "Yeah, I think that can be arranged."

Tom hums contentedly, kissing Marco's throat, "Maybe, until then, you can help me just a little."

Reaching between them, Marco touches Tom's wrist and Tom takes his hand, guiding it to his length. He has his pants open so Marco's fingertips meet the silk of his boxers, damp with pre. "It will make a mess," Marco teases and Tom bites his throat in retaliation. Marco only laughs and kisses his hair.

So, so in love.

Tom rocks into his touch, sighing and groaning when Marco teases the head of his cock. Marco begins to wake up with Tom's hot breath against his throat and his hand gripping Marco's him hard. It feels good to make Tom moan for him, his cock wet with pre and his balls heavy. Marco teases gently, stroking his thighs, his balls, and dragging his fingertips over the shaft of Tom's cock, feeling it shift.

"So happy," Tom sighs, hand moving to cup the back of Marco's neck, "So happy to see you."

Marco flushes and eagerly eases his hand into Tom's boxers, curling his fingers around Tom's length. Tom whimpers, soft and sweet, and Marco bites his lip, trying not to say anything embarrassing. Pumping slowly, Marco swipes his thumb over the head of Tom's cock, spreading his pre.

He knows what Tom likes: slow, firm, measured movements; gently cupping his balls; and kissing his ears. It feels like they know each other's bodies as well as they know their own.

Marco hopes he makes Tom feel safe, too.

"Marco," Tom chokes out, his hand once again moving between his thighs, shoving his pants further down his thighs to carefully tug on his balls.

Marco cups his hand over the head of Tom's cock and Tom quickly takes over stroking his length. He's panting, body tense, and Marco smiles. He comes with a growl, head jerking back so Marco can see how his eyes are all squeezed shut, his teeth pricking his lip. Marco catches up his cum, fingers very gently wiping it off the head of his cock, and blushes as Tom gasps and sighs with each touch.

Tom blinks owlishly as Marco kisses his lips quickly before rolling over to get a tissue from the bedstand. He wipes the cum from his hand and tosses the tissue into the nearby trash can, almost missing when Tom wraps an arm around his waist and drags him back until he's neatly tucked against Tom's back. Kissing the back of Marco's throat, Tom holds him close, broad hand firmly pressed to Marco's chest.

"So… uh, good idea?" Marco mumbles.

"Hm?"

"Was this a good idea?"

"Oh! Yes. Yes, it was. Quite a good idea," Tom babbles, trying to pull Marco even closer, and he repeats "I missed you…"

Marco presses his face into the pillows, laughing softly, "I'm glad."

Tom kisses his shoulder and Marco can feel his smile against his skin, "I'm holding you to your promise."

"The ironing?"

"Yeah."

Marco, chest so full of love he feels he may burst, slides his hand over Tom's own, stroking his knuckles as Tom traces his ribs. "I'm holding you to your promise."

"Oh?"

"Next time you'll come to me, right?"

Breath warm against his spine, Tom kisses the lines of his bones, reverent and adoring, "Mhm…"

Tom is warm and familiar; it's hard for Marco to stay awake in his arms, surrounded by his scent. He's a little fussy, shifting to adjust the sheets, pulling them up around their hips and then up to their shoulders, sometimes brushing his fingers through Marco's hair as if to fix it, but it's endearing. Marco feels loved when Tom tries to care of him like this. That's really what all of this is: the perfectionism, the sex - he wants to take care of those he loves. Throat tight, Marco takes Tom's hand to his lips and kisses it.

Marco, safe and sated, sleeps better than he has in months.

(The next morning, Marco keeps his promise and a week later Tom keeps his.)


End file.
